Best Revelling Poems
Wondering how fairies obtain dresses?
It's because they have fairy seamstresses
Sewing with pine needles and spidery
Gathered from spiders fine web filigree.
Pretty petals for fabric, leaves for shoes
Smelling of sweet fragrant floral perfume
Flowers to adorn their flowing tresses
Crystal star droplets sown into dresses.
Gossamer to turn into fairy wings
So fairies may fly in sky, revelling
Sprinkles of fairy dust, a wand for luck
When all dressed up, so pretty fairies look.
When you find fairies in a fairy glade
Recall how their lustrous outfits are made.
ellipses tremble
trace in waters
a deeper kiss than this
though deeper still
revelling in waves
sunken, slips
heavy under
starry-starry lights
i feel tall
those empty hollow places
that leave me under your skin
all deeper to the sound of standing-still
deep ocher core
Dragonflies practice their ballet
Tendering aflutter their cordial invites
To a world of whimsy and frivolity
A playful shimmer of glistening ripples
Mirrors of gilded sunlight enchantment
In a universe of magic and serenity
A microcosm of enticing fantasy
A hint of underwater wonderland
Looking on at wavelets quivering
Where nymphs and faeries play
As graceful baby mermaids clone
Under waterlilies that float adrift
Open unfurled soaking up sunrays
Idle with zenlike inspiration
Revelling with flair finesse
Inducing a meditative state
A replica of eden’s garden
Where freedom is a gift
Offered on a ray of sunshine
Published in my photo/poetry book ~WATERLILY GARDEN~ 2019
AP: 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2020, 3rd place 2025
Submitted on September 5, 2019 for N/A THE DAY AWAY sponsored by LU LOO - RANKED 2ND
Emerald Waves crashing, lapping,
frolicking on the tranquil seashore….
I watch, I reminisce, I close my eyes…
alone, standing on a cliff!
A Buddhist temple on the sublime shore,
chimes soaring from above,
I drown myself in a tranquil reverie,
inspiring my creative imagination.
Aha, I remember my serene childhood,
remember the days when revelling
on the shore with the playful waves,
hear the blithe giggle of my little friends,
each day was a blissful experience!
I stand on this cliff,
there is no noise except the waves rising and falling,
From this height, the world seems an enormous wonder,
My whole life seems to manifest itself,
I feel like a traveller from the ancient world,
walking through the ages,
crossing seas and oceans,
hills and dales of the universe…
Am I walking for thousands of years,
In search of love, kindness,
and inner Peace!
I hear you calling me
whispering softly
blowing my hair gently
a featherlike touch on my face
I hear you calling me
in my dreams
silencing my screams
shushing my troubles away
I hear you calling me
in tranquil times
smiling benovently
revelling in my good moments
I hear you calling me
always
I hope I hear you
always
I miss you
always
I love you Grandad
always
Revelling in the rain
That goes tapping on my back.
I twirl, 'am in no haste;
With a weedy leafy dirndle
Wrapped around my waist.
I swing and I sway,
Drifting about in gay;
Pirouetting with the posies,
Floating in the pristine air.
I dance with no refrain,
Foot taps whispering with the rain.
The entire world stood,
As in a clearing in the wood;
With festoons of flowers and foliage,
Them all ornating my stage.
Till I dance into the dawn,
And a grey and cloudy morn;
Rain capering with me,
Accompanying me for a song.
``
For Charlotte Puddifoot's Contest : "First Poem On Soup"
Un-revelling Rivalry
Who am I to speak of historical rivalry I cannot contest
all the clever myriad truths conjectures and refutations
about the two masters the two foes with huge presence
when history acclaim appreciation is subjective personal
up front and back stage up all artistic ins downs and outs
My parachute helicopter mind wants to give first prize to
to Leonardo for free flying inventive rebellious mind and
he helped me with anatomy dissecting corpses and all I can
still smell fragrant formalin preserving miraculous tissues
when I had to learn those medical terms and cut into flesh
But then Michelangelo shares my middle name though I am
no angel but who can proclaim that I may never be biased in
associate vein in quite shallow post-post-modernist anticipation
when the great man also painted in narrative personification
Deluge Drunken Noah Creation of Adam Madonna and Child
Okay family man that I am I resort to holidays with my children
and am so sad to admit that we never so far made it to Rome
sacrilegious or not but how could I pass The Last Judgement
when seeing Sistine Chapel’s altar would alter the verdict
of Ignoramus with leisure time spent on Normandy’s beaches
Well now I recall that trip to Euro Disney when we walked
from Tour Eiffel to the Louvre where I temporarily lost my
little boy Moritz and almost my temper when the devious villain
hid from the artwork was sulking because the Mona Lisa was
so small and he was so tiny could not see amongst masses of
tourists the smile and metaphorical writing on canvas and wall
So in all earnest while giving a toss I could-would have to resort
to tossing a coin in regards to whom why how and whenever the
rivals could measure up to history my history my story and life
Even and because of my whacky literal critical stance and my
stanzas bordering on mockery heresy subtle subjectification
you must remember that I have one tongue and two cheeks
And while seemingly ridiculing an important theme of historical
prominence I still bow in awe admiration yet lodge my own angle
perspective whereas the two grand master’s problem was not
what I would behold in my eyes and my soul in full radiance but
that they chose not to consider each others contrasting beauty
as compliment complement Leonardo Angelo Michel Da Vinci
01st September 2016
When war is all there is,
peace doesn't have a chance.
When soldiers are just pawns,
in his diabolical plan.
Who laughs at their suffering,
rejoicing in the game?
He's the tycoon of torment,
the king of pain.
When humans are inhumane,
inflicting torture and shame,
being pleasured by the insane.
Who is happy wounding souls,
who feels their loss is his gain?
He's the magnate of misery,
the king of pain.
When disaster strikes the innocent,
lives go down in flames.
Who hides behind God throwing stones,
slandering his holy Name?
Revelling in the game.
He's the baron of broken hearts,
the king of pain.
Know his name?
S ultan of suffering
A ffliction Emperor
T ycoon of Torment
A che King
N oxious substance
Now you know who is behind all the suffering in the world, the King of Pain!
John Derek Hamilton November 18, 2015
The Carnivores Next Door
rate the worth and pleasure
of their morning
by the number of shattered lives
they return home dragging
at times there’s broad smiles
and load boasting
gathered friends
who lend to the barbarism
their congenial
conspiratorial toasting
revelling in the blood and sinews
of the fallen
avoiding non-biodegradable packing
and energy absorbing refrigeration
artificial colours
and chemical preservation
the carnivores next door
eating their conservation
I maybe young
a little foolish and naive
but I have come to understand myself
even if no one else does
I may not have all the answers
or even all the right questions
if I know nothing else
I know this
my love for you comes from somewhere unknown
someplace I believe most people never find
or even know exists
it's an abstract wilderness
being overrun by emotions
our moral compass
it houses our deepest fears and insecurities
but also our courage, character,honesty, beauty
it is the dwelling wherein our purest love lies
this is where we find our greatest potential and power
the strength and ambition to progress
...to persevere...to survive
I credit this unknown place
for my faith and credence
in the revelations of life
its complexities
as well as its simplicities
I praise this unknown place
for bestowing upon me the dexterity needed
to possess a fire and an exuberant vitality
to be able to love you beyond words
once I fail to recognize this profound discovery
and stop revelling in its truth
I shall cease to exist
Mall, Boutique, Department store treasures to my commercial heart do speak
Must frequent all to earn preferred status and join the frivolous clique
Glitzy curtains, fragrant candles, gaudy clothes through glamorous show windows peak
Sales, promotions, every-day values entreat any time during the week
Checks, petty cash start the extravaganza; plastic cards extend the streak
Nick knacks, valuables, and everything in between must seek
To grand openings, holiday giveaways, early previews, away I sneak
Revelling through posh galleries, gilded show rooms in the presence of chic manequins so sleek
Reconnoitering new fashions, suave styles, designer wears so sheek
Through crowded aisles, up squeaky escalators, into narrow corridors not for the meek
With such dedication, resolve, and passion you dare call me weak
My cabinets are stuffed, my closets are packed, my halls are cluttered; but I'm no freak
He was only a sheepdog
But his death has bitten
Into my soul ever since.
As a pup we brought
Him from his home
In Ireland
Where supernumeraries
Are drowned
No small farm needing
More than one mutt.
His reddish brown brother
Had been our first choice
We were left , my father-in-law's choice,
With the black and white collie.
Now his residence would be
A Scottish housing estate
We all grew to love him
I became his alpha male
How his ears would prick up
And he would sit attentively
At the window,
Awaiting my usual time of arrival
With a welcome where,
With tail wagging furiously
His paws would reach up to my chest
As he sought to lick my face
From strength to strength he grew
A tireless walker,chewer of carpets
Chaser of sticks and thief of Sunday roasts
How we all used to smile
When he darted to the opposite end of the room
Whenever my son burst into tears.
This had to be his way
Of saying,"Don't blame me."
He was right at home
Running round the street
With a gaggle of kids
He found his true metier
On returning to the farm
Where he was born
For two days he sat
And watched his brother
Bringing in the cows
And then relieved him
Of his duties
This task he performed
With great gusto
While his brother skulked off
Glad to be relieved
Of his daily chore
He was so much at home
On the farm
Revelling in the freedom,
Enjoying the work
And he was so much bigger
And more energetic than his brother
Tragedy struck
On our return home
Tied to the garage door
To keep him from getting
Under my wife's feet
Meant he could not run away
When a little girl kept blowing
In his face
Self-defence saw him
Nipping her in the neck.
That is what sealed
His death warrant
Gloom settled over our home
That nip might have been fatal
Fatal it was for him
The death sentence was passed
That last long walk
Was our rush to judgment.
We walked slowly
His head hung low
Never had I known
Him so quiet
He entered the killing room
Unflinching and calm
The vet's needle did the deed
Seeing his young body
Stretched lifeless
On that cold dark slab
Has burned my soul
With remorse
Ever since
Going about our lives with giving hearts
Inspired forever by His unfailing love
Very eager to follow His perfect example
Incomplete and so forlorn without Him
Naturally desirous to spread good news
Giving and accepting the gift of prayer
Generous always with love and devotion
Obedience to the dear Lord in all things
Doubtlessly directing all our footsteps
Letting forgiveness prevail in our hearts
Yielding to peaceableness at all times
Gladly sharing with many His holy word
Revelling in eternal joy of knowing Him
All abuzz about His everlasting goodness
Communing with other people in His house
Exuberantly praising Him and worshipping
Written on May 12, 2021
For: Giving Godly Grace Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
City life turns to sparse assortments;
Of local pubs and country homes.
Tall brick walls fade into fences;
Amongst hedgerows and mossy stones.
Crowded bustle soon lowers its pace;
Those now free, move unconfined.
Only thoughts spent are of contentment,
Peaceful surroundings heal the mind.
As roads turn to paths unbeaten,
Dipping and climbing, alongside the fields.
Views everchanging, revelling new pastures,
Filled full of beauty from treasures they yield.
Awaking from the brief city escape,
Thoughts soon creep back to the hubbub.
Before it all end though, the passenger pleads,
Can we go for a pint at the pub?
Every man holds two faces, yes two faces
That his persona always carries and displays
The outer one, a facade that is very artificial
The inner represents the original and normal.
The physical is superimposed on the natural
That alternates with circumstances congenial
The real always conceals behind the artificial
And presents the synthetic for public approval.
The face that looks composed, might harbour
A volcano alive with agitating feelings, bitter
And another which looks seemingly disquiet
Might, be revelling in the tranquility of spirit.
Hence it is difficult to judge any human being
By his outward appearances not withstanding
To know the true being behind the impression
It certainly calls for a keen, penetrative vision.
The extensive observation of human attitudes
Has formed the basis of a widely held maxim
That the appearances are certainly deceptive
So never judge any person by his expressions.